


Second Debut

by Sibir



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Complete, F/M, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sibir/pseuds/Sibir
Summary: Wanda wants to perform a benefit concert for Sokovian refugees. She has talent for songwriting and playing guitar, but also has doubts. She messed up on her 1st public appearance. What if she messed up again? Vision and the others pitch in to help. [Oneshot]





	Second Debut

**Second Debut**

Embraced under the comforting confines of her room, Wanda let her mind wander. She also let her fingers did as they pleased, plucking a string of notes along her guitar to no particular tune or song. Sheet music was spread open on a stand nearby, but she kept her eyes closed, following wherever her heart led her. A hum rose up from her chest, rolling on her tongue and behind her lips.

"That's beautiful."

Wanda flinched, then relaxed her grip on the guitar. Vision's voice, though gentle and almost soothing, startled her nonetheless. There he was, floating right through the walls of her room again. She shook her head and sighed. "Vis, we-"

"Talked about this, I know. But I could not help overhearing." The android Avenger paused, his gaze distant as he contemplated, then said, "What song was that? I ran a search, but could not find any results in the database."

"I made it up." Wanda shrugged. "It's not even a song, really."

"One has to start somewhere...maybe it'll grow into a song someday. The Avengers have a budding musician in their midst."

Her cheeks warmed. "Hardly. I'm just passing the time." It was all she could do, when the whole world seemed to point fingers at her for the disaster in Lagos.

"Anyway," Vision went on, "the optimum time for eating dinner is 6:00 to 6:30 PM." He glanced pointedly at the clock in her room.

"I'm not hungry."

He tilted his head, an amused smile playing at his lips. "What an irony we find ourselves in...me, a synthetic entity, reminding a woman that she needs to eat."

"I'm fine, Vis. I...I need time to be alone."

A frown of concern replaced his smile. "In all honesty, Wanda, you've already had all the time today. I have not seen you come out of your room since this morning. You haven't eaten anything all day, I assume."

Knowing the social tact to keep his mouth shut, he also knew that he was noticing from Wanda classic symptoms of depression. Lack of appetite, lack of motivation, wanting only to stay in bed, that numb, blank look on her face when she wasn't playing her guitar...at least she hadn't lost interest in whatever she enjoyed. That consoled him a bit. In fact, she looked the happiest when she strummed a few notes. Compared to him, in all his complexity and intelligence, the guitar was such a simple thing. Just a few metal strings stretched over a wooden shell. Yet it amazed him that such a simple instrument could bring Wanda so much joy. Not that he was a jealous of a guitar...nothing preposterous like that. For her to stay in the compound and play guitar was considerably more preferable to thrusting her out into the front lines and the public eye. The danger, the cruelty. He had to protect her from all that. He hated the thought of her getting hurt.

Vision drew closer and took her hand. "You have to eat, Wanda. You may not want to, I know, but you must." He tried to lighten the firmness of what he had said. "I went to the store earlier today and made sure that I bought the right ingredients. At least show me how to make Sokovian paprikash the right way."

Wanda gave in with an upward twitch of her lips. "All right, I'll show you."

Vision had everything prepared in the kitchen. He watched intently as she proceeded to heat up the pot and mix in the spices. "You're not going to use the instructions?" he asked in surprise.

"Thanks for getting things ready, but I'll be fine without reading the recipe. I'm going to cook the way my mother had always done it." Wanda could not help smiling as, out of the corner of her eye, noticed how Vision's confused yet intrigued expression flitted between the printed recipe and her actions.

"It is only through watching your mother cook so many times that you learned to make the dish yourself, is that right?"

Wanda nodded, and remembered with bittersweet fondness how she had spent many nights as a child with her mother in the kitchen, making mistakes yet learning from them. Her mistake in Lagos, however...there was no way to undo that. And what could she learn from it? Well, the dead stayed dead.

"Perhaps if I watch you cook enough times, I may get it right myself."

Vision's voice snapped Wanda out of her gloomy thoughts. She paused for a moment from stirring and gave him a small smile. "I think you'll learn a lot faster than I did. You're 'the embodiment and epitome of intelligence,' as Stark put it."

"Well, he did create me...by extension he means himself, does he not?"

A chuckle slipped from her lips. Vision's allegiance may be to his maker, but he was not above landing in a mild jibe or two. Maybe he knew that she wasn't on the best terms with that genius billionaire, especially after he practically had her locked up in here.

Tony had tried to make amends by giving her a guitar to play. "Do something cool while you're here," he had said. "Try to have fun while you're at it." For a while she refused to touch the instrument.

"What made you pick up that guitar?" Vision asked.

Wanda raised the ladle to her face, to hide the way she would purse her lips in embarrassment. "You're going to think it's so silly."

"You know, when you try to dismiss something, that only piques my curiosity. I would like to hear the reason."

They went back and forth, escalating into relentless teasing as Wanda rebutted with a "no" for every plea Vision made. This continued even as she finished making the paprikash, and when she sat down to eat she relented.

"Okay, Vis...promise me that you won't laugh."

"Wanda, I would never laugh at you." The genuine sincerity in his reply moved her enough to admit her secret, and, unable to bring herself to meet his eyes, channeled fascination into the way food gathered under the push of her fork.

"When I was a girl, I dreamed about being a rock star."

Voiced aloud for the first time since her parents died, the confession sounded so ridiculous and strange without laughter that Wanda had to laugh at herself when Vision remained quiet.

"You're the first to know," she went on. "Well, since Pietro and my parents, but now they're all..." Wanda swallowed down the growing lump in her throat. "My family had been too poor to own much, let alone a guitar, so I settled for playing pretend. Even before I got my powers, I always did funny little things with my hands." Wanda played a riff on an imaginary electric guitar, her fingers twitching in the air. She bobbed her head to the beat only she could hear. Vision burst out laughing. To her surprise, his laughter did not sound robotic or forced at all. Moments like these made her often forget that he wasn't human. Of all the members in the Avengers, she seemed to have a lion's share in those moments, and she enjoyed seeing that side of him.

"I thought that dream died with everything else," Wanda said. "But Stark brought them back when he pushed a guitar into my hands." She leaned back in her chair feeling full, though she did not eat much. "Playing music is fun, but I can't be doing that forever. Do you know when we can get back on the field?"

"I don't," Vision admitted. "I'm only sure that we are in better hands when the Accords are settled."

Wanda frowned at the thought of that. How could he be so sure? Maybe because everyone felt so certain in his or her own convictions that the Avengers had lately been so...disassembled. She did not like seeing her comrades bicker and take sides over these arrangements. Even regarding her place in the compound, Steve and Tony disagreed on where she should be. Naturally she resented Tony for his attempts to contain her, while she appreciated Steve championing her freedom.

"There are worse places to protect her," Tony kept saying, and Wanda couldn't help but agree. Anywhere was better than the hellhole where she and Pietro had been a madman's lab rats. Maybe she wasn't right to be pouting and sulking. She felt like crap, anyway, as her hands and feet seemed to drag in the air and on the floor like lead when she got up to empty the kitchen.

"I'll take care of that," Vision offered. "You look tired. You should take a rest." Then he quickly added, "Not so soon after eating, though."

"You sound like my father." She meant that as a joke, but her bad mood made the reply come out as a grumble.

Retreating to her room, Wanda played a song she had been practicing over for the past few days. She knew it so well that she didn't need to look at the sheet music, and looked out her window while she played the guitar. She had tried hard not to spend her days getting the news from her TV or radio, per Steve's firm advice, but the headlines burned like a brand in her mind.

Uncontrolled carelessness creates Lagos catastrophe. New Avenger makes failed debut.

Uncontrollable. Failure. An unseen hand squeezed at her heart and she clenched her teeth. How could she mess up so badly? Steve and Natasha had taught her everything they knew about combat and team tactics before sending her out. She had learned from the best. She had tried her hardest to listen and follow through. She followed the training regimen and earned approval from her teammates. They had trusted her. Still, her best had not been good enough. People died and their blood was on her hands. Whenever she brought that up, Vision would tell her it wasn't her fault. He was just saying that to try making her feel better. She knew deep down that she deserved the blame. At this rate, she stood a better chance being a rock star than a proper Avenger.

Tears tugged at the corners of her eyes and she couldn't play anymore. She set down the guitar and flopped onto her bed. She bunched up the sheets around her, though the temperature was quite comfortable in her room. She squeezed a pillow to her chest in a vain effort to relieve the wrenches at her heart.

Since the fight in Lagos, there had been a growing weight in her stomach. The kind that made her feel heavy and full though her belly was flat and smooth. The kind that made her skip meals and dragged her down whenever she got up to brush her teeth, change clothes, or take a shower. The littlest things were a struggle to do.

What would Pietro do if he were here? "Go for a run," he would say.

That was his favorite thing to do, not hers, and she used to roll her eyes at him. "You'll leave me behind anyway," she once said. "You're too fast."

"It's not a race. Just get out and breathe in the fresh air. You'll come back feeling better."

When Vision poked and prodded at Wanda to get out of her room, she thought of Pietro and took his advice one day to walk around the compound. It really was a nice area, like a luxury hotel. She passed by the garden, the sculptures, the pool she never swam in. She went back inside feeling like her head cleared up a bit. The good feeling didn't last, however, since she was not allowed to stray far from the compound. Running past the same course over and over eventually had no effect on her. Wanda returned to the emotional slump that trapped her in her room.

She had been receiving a growing pile of mail from displaced Sokovians around the world, particularly from America, but she dared not open any of the letters. Whether they held words to support or condemn her, she was too scared to find out. Ignorance was bliss. So the pile grew and grew, remaining sealed and unopened. It was clear to Vision that she did not wish to read any of them, but he could not bring himself to throw them away. In the living room, listening to soft jazz on the radio, he sat down to open and read the mail. Anything remotely rude or insulting, he would send straight to the trash. Wanda would never have to face and put up with anything plunging her further into doubt and dejection. He had promised to protect her, and this was part of keeping that promise.

To his pleasant surprise, as he opened letter after letter, none of them had to be thrown into the bin for trash. A smile spread across his face as he read. Finally he read enough to get up, with the box of mail under one arm. Remembering not to phase right into Wanda's room, he knocked on her door.

"Wanda, you have to see these letters."

"I'd rather not, Vis," she mumbled.

He stepped inside to find Wanda draping her upper body over her knees. She held the guitar in both hands but did not play it. Instead she had the instrument propped along her shins, and stared listlessly at the carpet.

"I'm afraid I can't let the kind words from these people go unheard," he insisted. He opened up a letter despite her half-hearted protests, and began reading aloud,

"Dear Wanda Maximoff,

I am writing to you from Houston, Texas, where it is quite different from the cold, landlocked cityscape in Sokovia. I am an old man who had never, until now, bothered to learn English, so it is difficult. Fortunately, my family was welcomed with open arms. We are adjusting to our new lives here the best we can. I hope you are doing well. Like many in the general public, I watched you fight with the Avengers in Nigeria, but I do not blame you for the casualties that happened there. It's unfortunate that lives were lost, but many more were also saved. There were more people on the ground than on that hospital floor. I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt anyone, and you did the best you could. I am proud and honored that a brave, capable young woman like you is representing our country. We may have lost our land, but Sokovia remains alive in the people. People you have saved. For that I am extremely grateful to the Avengers, and to you. Please don't lose heart, and keep fighting the good fight."

Vision looked up from the letter. Wanda said nothing and kept her gaze lowered to the carpet. Tears filled her eyes and when she blinked, they rolled down her cheeks. He settled next to her on the bed and opened up the next letter.

"Hi Miss Wanda,

My name is Sonya. I'm five years old. My mama and papa and I lived in Sokovia but now we're in France. The boys at my new school said that girls can't be heroes. I saw you on TV so they're wrong. You're really cool and my favorite Avenger. I want to be like you when I grow up."

By now Wanda buried her face into the crook of her arm and her shoulders shook.

"There's many more where that came from," Vision said softly. He laid a hand on her back to wish her goodnight, then left the box of letters with her so she could read the rest herself. Wanda laid in bed that night overcome with emotion, crying quietly into her pillow. When she woke up the next morning dry-eyed, she mustered enough courage to read the messages sent to her. They came in a staggering variety: some were hand-written, others typed, some bright with colorful stationary, others quite plain, from children, teenagers, adults, old people, with stamps and addresses from all over the world. What they all had in common, however, were words of encouragement and support for her. It seemed that all of Sokovia stood behind her, and the thought moved Wanda to tears.

Vision was pleased to see her preparing breakfast in the kitchen looking much brighter than before.

"Thank you," she said, "for making me see those letters."

He smiled at her. "I wanted others to see you as I do."

Wanda had been cooking eggs, but she stopped for a moment and reached out to hug him. She felt him stiffen in surprise, but only for a moment. He returned the embrace with calculated hesitation, unsure if he should hug as tightly as she did and at the same time feared crushing her if he did that. Wanda pulled back, tugged at the collar of her jacket, and returned to cooking.

She played the guitar with more gusto, filled with more confidence to try out new chords and sing verses that jumped into her head. She no longer stayed in her room and made music in the living room, where Vision could watch her play.

"You are a wonderful singer," he declared one day.

She laughed. "Really? You think so?"

"I know you are. My ears may be synthetic, but they can still detect a warm, full resonance, clear enunciation, and control of tone. All this leads me to confidently deem you a 'good' singer."

The tips of her own ears grew hot. "I'll take your word for it. I didn't even get to go to middle school, so vocal training was out of the picture. I didn't think about any of those things you said when I sing. I just...sing."

"You have a great amount of talent, then. It would be a shame to let that go to waste. You're keeping Sokovia alive with that music."

Sokovia...music...An idea struck her like lightning and she sat up so quickly in her seat that she almost fell over.

"Vision, so many Sokovians out there need help adjusting to their new lives. I could raise money for them."

"How would you do that, Wanda?" he asked without derision, only with curiosity.

"That rock star dream...maybe it's not dead, after all." She ran into her room before he could reply and scribbled down ideas that sprang up from her first one. They did not go on for long, however. She stopped short and frowned.

"How am I going to pull this off?" she muttered to herself.

She was not a professional singer. She had letters of support, yes, but no real fanbase. She had no money. How could she manage a concert to raise money if she had no money to get that concert started in the first place? Would anyone attending even like her singing? Wanda felt ashamed for acting so rashly. Before she could drag herself to bed and curl up back into the blankets, Vision came in and looked over her shoulder at the scant notes she had hastily written down.

"A benefit concert...Wanda, that would be a great thing to do."

"But how am I going to make it happen? Where? When?"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we know just the right person to consult."

She read his mind. Of course. Ask the genius playboy billionaire philanthropist. He knew how to pull off big events. And he certainly had the money. When she contacted Tony and shared her ideas, he countered her doubt with unbridled enthusiasm.

"I'm in. Let me take care of the stage and special effects. That's totally my thing."

Wanda tried not to laugh. "Okay, but don't go overboard."

"You should listen to her," Vision said. "This is her show, after all."

"I hear you, I hear you. I'll run a few simulations by you before I rig it up for real."

"Sounds good."

"Regarding communications, interpersonal coordination, and all that, you'll have to ask my second in-command." Tony gestured to Pepper, who shared part of the holographic screen and had listened in on what Wanda had to say as well.

"I can help send tickets to the Sokovians who gave you mail," Pepper said happily. "We could also provide transportation for them. Don't worry about all the logistics, Wanda, so you can focus on practicing."

The couple launched into a spirited discussion over the possibilities and plans that made Wanda's head spin, but she felt grateful for their support. Tony liked to talk; soon word reached the other Avengers about her attempt to put together a concert. Many of them were too busy and scattered over the globe to come to the compound themselves, though they reached out to her via hologram.

"I didn't know you could sing," Steve exclaimed. "Don't tell me what your playlist is, though. I want it to be a surprise when I'll be at your concert."

"Of course I'll be there," Clint said in shock, as if it was beyond him to do otherwise. "I'll bring my family, too."

"Kudos to you for doing this." Natasha sounded genuinely impressed, without the usual deadpan sarcasm lacing her remarks. Then, with the usual: "Hope Stark doesn't steal your spotlight."

"I need to get my mind off these damned Accords," Sam said wryly, then he grinned at Wanda "Let me know about the final date so I can come and hear you sing."

"Doesn't matter to me if you sing in Sokovian," Rhodey said with a wave of his hand. "I jam to Rammstein all the time. I like a good song when I hear one, no matter the language."

While buoyed by their collective excitement for her, Wanda also felt a overwhelming pressure, as if they all expected her to kill it on stage. But they were her friends, not critics. What did she have to be nervous about?

Wanda spent the next few days either hunched over her desk, pen and paper in hand, or playing around with the new electric guitar Tony had given her. She thought about what kind of songs she could perform at the concert. They would be in Sokovian, of course, for the Sokovian people. Wherever they lived now, she wanted them to feel at home when they would come together for the concert. She thought of the music she had heard growing up, and frowned. Sokovia had been a war-torn nation long under the Soviet Union's influence. Censorship greatly restrained creative freedom and progress there. Military propaganda was usually the only music allowed to be broadcasted. Wanda didn't want to play that kind of music, even if it reminded her people of home. She would have to look for inspiration elsewhere, outside of Sokovia.

She asked Vision to come up with a map detailing the population density of Sokovian refugees around the world. He pointed at the deep orange to red holographic clusters hovering near them.

"Density's the greatest in the United States, followed by the United Kingdom and surrounding Eastern European countries, such as Russia, Serbia, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic."

Wanda relied on this data to compile a list of popular songs from these areas, and worked on translating them into Sokovian covers.

"You're gonna slip in AC/DC somewhere in that playlist, right?" Tony would ask. Once he heard more about Wanda's plans, she never heard the end of his band suggestions.

Wanda wanted to end the concert with a song or two she had composed herself. Since proposing the benefit concert, she gained a sense of discipline and routine that motivated her to wake up early and work on the music she wanted to play. Tony helped her put out the call for supporting musicians. A bunch of Sokovian teenagers, all brothers, stepped up to help Wanda by playing the piano, drums, and bass. Because they had no access to Avengers property, Wanda had to meet them at a nearby facility to practice with them. Fortunately for her, she didn't have to butt heads with any big egos. All the boys were eager to support their family and have their talents heard. And they were, of course, starstruck in the presence of their favorite Avenger. They had looked over her playlist and were happy to play along. She practiced performing her parts in front of Vision, her sole audience for the time being.

"I love the lyrics," he said. "Though, if I may add, you could project your voice more. You waver and hesitate at some parts."

"I know. I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "It's just nerves. The final date's been set and every day draws closer to it..."

"Think of all the people you'll be helping by doing this. Believe in yourself, Wanda. If you can't, then believe in me who believes in you."

That made her smile. She adjusted the guitar in her arms and tried again to assert herself some more. Nervousness made her voice soft and shaky. She couldn't afford to do that at the real deal. She had to be heard over the roar of the crowd, the boom of the speakers. Most Sokovians likely still heard the deafening quake of their city falling from the sky. She had to make herself heard over that, too.

She would be allowed out of the compound just for the night of the concert, and she made no objections to that. Tony managed to make arrangements for the concert to happen at a nearby sports stadium. He expected attendance to be near overflowing. Pepper had been showing Wanda the course of ticket sales, and that floored her. She didn't think that this many non-Sokovians would show up. This was supposed to encourage her, because contributions came from non-Sokovians and the concert would certainly meet fundraising goals, but the growing amount of people coincided with her growing nervousness. Vision had been her only audience so far. Not even the other Avengers knew what she was going to perform that night.

Wanda spent the last few days dedicating herself to even more practice. Though she knew the songs by heart now, her fingers slipped and trembled over the strings, and her heart thudded harder than usual against the back of the guitar. She spent the night before not singing or playing her guitar at all, but going through the letters one more time, to remind herself why she was doing this in the first place. That provided the ultimate comfort before going to bed early.

On the big day, Wanda met with the three brothers at the stadium to make preparations. Tony scuttled around making sure everything was working and looking nice at night. The supporting musicians were too excited to notice Wanda's nervousness, but that didn't fool Vision. He spent time with her backstage, and noticed how much she chewed on her bottom lip and flexed her fingers close to her sides.

"Wanda, you're making everything float again."

She puffed out the breath she didn't know she had been holding, and relaxed her fists. The red energy dissipated once the equipment were gently lowered to the floor. "I'm sorry," she said for the umpteenth time. "I need to get a hold of myself." But as soon as she said that, she turned to him and gripped his wrist. "What if I just freeze out there? What if I forget the lyrics? What if my throat's too dry-"

"Wanda, please calm down." Vision placed his hand over hers, and he felt her trembling. Her face seemed to grow paler as the murmur of the crowd swelled into a buzz outside. Seeing her look so frightened compelled him to draw her into a hug, one tighter and warmer than before. "I know you can do this."

Wanda buried her face into his chest. "I'm just afraid I'm going to-"

"Fail? I know you're scared of failure," he murmured. "Things didn't go as planned the first time."

She cringed, remembering Lagos, and he pulled back to rest his hands on her shoulders.

"This isn't the same as saving the world. This is playing the music you've been practicing. The music you wrote. You're going to do something you enjoy, not something you're obligated to do. So have fun, Wanda. Remember that." Though luck held no empirical or scientific credence, it gave him enough reason to press a kiss to her forehead. She looked like she needed it. Wanda stepped away from him, managing a smile, and left to meet up with the other band members down the hall.

Roars and cheers greeted her as she stepped onto the stage. People were already throwing up their hands and jumping when she hadn't even started the first song yet. Wanda noticed her teammates gathered in the front row, all beaming and giving her thumbs-up. Clint brought his wife and children, as he had promised. He even brought the baby, whose middle name was in honor of her brother, and the sight made her heart lift. Ultron had said that she would tear the Avengers apart. Maybe she did, unintentionally, and the Accords were the result. But just this once, she had the Avengers set aside their differences and assemble tonight.

Swept up by everyone's energy, Wanda gave them a grin from ear to ear and leaned close to the mic. "Hello, Sokovia! How are you doing tonight?"

The audience's response split the air and made the ground tremble.

"This is all for you," she said as she strapped on the guitar. "Someone told me that Sokovia's never really gone." She raised a fist over her heart. "It's still here, in you. In all of you." Then she pointed to the crowd. "You are the stars tonight."

With that, she launched into the first song. The faces of her American teammates lit up when they recognized the beat. They mouthed the words while she sang her own take on them. If blood pounded on all sides against her skull, if her heart wanted to hammer itself through her chest, she couldn't feel it. Not when the crowd cheered this much. The drummer, bass, and pianist kept good time with her, resounding alongside her with their backup vocals. The charged atmosphere helped maintain the momentum, on to the next song, and the next.

Have fun, Vision had said. She did. She was having the time of her life. It was easy, so easy to get swept up in the music and the crowd, that getting held up by nerves proved impossible. No one was in danger. No one needed to be saved. No one came here to judge her for the mistakes she made. Everyone just came to have fun.

Wanda had told herself that she wouldn't get carried away and go too wild, but soon she jerked her head and stomped her foot to the beat. Wasn't that part of having fun? She did not freeze or falter during her guitar solos. Far from it. Instead her fingers flew over the strings in a blur. She had not rehearsed these and played whatever notes came from the heart, right here and now. When she played her original songs, she did not forget a single word, as she had feared. She had chosen to sing about her brother, to dedicate the songs to his memory. How could she forget Pietro? Tears did brim in her eyes as she played, but her throat didn't swell so much that she couldn't get a word out.

Pietro...could he hear her now, even from the grave? Would he be proud to see her put herself in front of the world again, when the first time didn't go well?

The concert ended on a sadder note than she expected, but the ensuing applause made Wanda take a low bow and she straightened up with a wide grin. She turned to the other musicians behind her and motioned for them to also take bows. They did so with faces flushed, and kept waving at their family in the front row. Wanda left the stage with ears ringing and her own cheeks burning red. When she made it backstage, exhaustion hit her like a truck. She staggered into Vision's arms, and he caught her easily.

"How was that?" he asked, amusement apparent in his voice. "Not so bad, was it?"

"That...that was..." Wanda pressed a palm over her sweaty forehead. "Wow."

Tony gave the other Avengers access to backstage, and they poured in heaping Wanda with praise.

"You surprised me," Steve said. "Nice job, kid."

Clint gave her several hearty pats on the back. "I didn't understand a word you were singing, but it was awesome."

"I did understand a few words out there, and you blew me away," Natasha said.

"When's your album coming out?" Sam exclaimed.

Everyone laughed at that.

"We'll call that your comeback," Vision said. "It was a success, don't you think?"

Wanda trusted in the applause that continued long after she stepped down from the stage, and ventured a nod.

"Your brother would be so happy to see you now. Are you happy?"

Wanda nodded once more. Her throat raw from singing, that was all she could do.

"Then I'm happy, too."

She couldn't think of the right words, or enough of them, to thank Vision for helping her from the beginning. She mouthed "thank you."

He knew what she was trying to say. "Oh you're welcome," he replied warmly.


End file.
